


Turntables

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Multi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:08:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29105355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A collection of one shots based off of songs, featuring a revolving cast of our favorite Dream SMP characters.(Varying ships- will be specified by chapter)(Varying AUs- will be specified by chapter)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Preface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A figure finds a turntable and a crate of records. The magic begins.

Wind bellows through the midwinter air, shaking the closely-nestled, barren-branched oak trees in its wake. Snow from the treetops falls gently to the pillowed earth below it, framing the cobblestoned path in which it surrounds. The mansion’s grandeur seems dulled- the saturation of its canary-colored walls sucked deep beneath the earth’s frozen surface. 

The light sound of footsteps breaks the howling current surrounding them, as soft rubber snow boots press against the interior’s spruce floorboards. Gentle reminders of nature’s wrath leave behind vestiges of the footsteps as they ascend the staircase in the foyer, coming to a puddled halt before a crate in the clearing above. A gloved hand runs along its contents- a collection of vinyls of variant ages, stacked neatly against each other. It selects one, edging the record out of its papered prison, allowing it to bask momentarily in the soft, candlelight glow of the table before it. Another gloved hand reaches out to the worn leather briefcase in front of it, unlatching its golden clasps to reveal a velvet-lined turntable within.

The vinyl is set atop the turntable, the needle prepared to rest atop. A single finger slides the needle out, positioning it, before allowing the arm to drop with a soft crackle. The turntable springs to life, a soft crackling noise echoing throughout the room as the needle finds its way to the record’s grooves. A few moments of peaceful nothingness pass, before the soft noises of a synth play through the turntable’s speakers. 

The candles flicker, and the figure sits. 

_So it began._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!
> 
> this is my first time using ao3- please be gentle.
> 
> the preface is more to introduce the premise- a magic turntable bringing to life all of these stories. there's really not much more to it, other than serving to tie all these one shots together in a sort of plotty way. who the figure is/where this mansion resides isn't important to any of the one shots!! ~maybe!~
> 
> anyways, short chapter, long note, chapter 1 will be going up immediately after i post this!


	2. American Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“DISTRACT HIM, NIMROD!”_
> 
> _George looks at Sapnap, his words echoing through his headset as the yellow man in front of him winds for another blow. George swallows and jumps between them._
> 
> _“Take me on a trip, I’d like to go someday,” he blurts out, ready to absorb the impact of an axe._
> 
> _His axe stops. “..what?”_
> 
> _“Take me to New York, I’d love to see L.A.”_
> 
> (Manhunt AU)
> 
> (DreamNotFound)

George’s eyes scan the scene before him on his monitor. His friend BadBoyHalo’s Minecraft character stands next to his own, four furnaces illuminate the cave the two reside. The sound of a zombie dying comes from his right, as Sapnap’s character swiftly takes care of the threat with an iron axe. George checks on the furnace’s progress, slotting the smelted iron into his inventory with an experienced click.

“Dream, you are so screwed,” he smiles against his headset, as he moves to the crafting table to create chestplates for himself and Bad.

His friend offers a mocking laugh in response. “Is that why you three are off hiding somewhere?”

“We are _not_ hiding,” Sapnap snaps back. His axe is brought down against a skeleton.

“Yeah- we’re actually preparing. Full diamond armor,” George tacks on, tossing one of the chestplates to Bad who swiftly puts it on with a few appreciative crouches.

_BadBoyHalo has made the advancement [Suit Up]_

_GeorgeNotFound has made the advancement [Suit Up]_

A familiar wheeze comes through the opposite side of the call. “Full diamond, yeah?”

“Shut up.” George rolls his eyes. _Damn achievements._

“You see, actually,” Bad’s voice sounds like it’s smiling already, “this is all part of our secret and elusive plan. Which we cannot tell you about because then it wouldn’t be secret and elusive anymore.”

_Dream has made the advancement [Suit Up]_

George’s eyes widen slightly and he finishes crafting two and a half sets of armor for the three of them, opting to give Sapnap and Bad each a set short of a piece so he could have a full one of his own.

“Okay, he has iron, we gotta go. If he gets to the stronghold- fortress before us we’re done,” Sapnap accepts his armor, his own achievement running through the chat as well.

George grabs the furnaces and the remainder of their contents, and wields his shield and compass. “Compass is pointing this way,” he says, and runs in the direction.

The three spend a healthy amount of time sprint-jumping across the blocky terrain, stopping only to refill their hunger bars with whatever scraps of food they could scavenge. 

The compass leads the three to a desert biome, which is when the dreaded notification came through.

_Dream has made the advancement [Hot Stuff]_

“Shit-” Sapnap and George say in near unison, warranting a mumbled “language,” from Bad.

George’s eyes scan the surroundings frantically, opting to set his character into the third person view to get a better vantage point. Following the arrow of the compass, George sees him: a piss-yellow blob of a character, frantically picking up buckets of lava from the pool in which it resided.

“He’s literally right there!” George exclaims, switching from his compass to his axe.

“Oh Dream!” Sapnap mocks and does the same, his character rushing a bit in front of George’s.  
  
Dream picks up the water, his hand switching to the flint and steel as he impatiently paces on the two block floor of the portal. It lights a deep blue, and George knows that he’s getting to the Nether before them. Right as Sapnap goes to jump-crit Dream, his body blips away, and with a chorus of hollers, the boys follow him in. 

\---

The gentle hum of the portal subsides as George is brought into the Nether, the grey-ish hue of the netherrack around him causing his heartbeat to rise into his ears. He looks around frantically- no Dream.

“He- he fucking ran away!” Sapnap calls frantically, naturally calling for another “laNGUAGE!” from Bad.“Let’s just find the fortress before him,” George turns on his F3. Negative negative coordinates, should be fairly close. As if speaking it into existence, the warm-hued bricks of the nether fortress come into his peripherals. George cocks an eyebrow, swallowing his excitement in exchange for holding anonymity over his friend.

 _You whisper to Sapnap: Fortress left._ _  
_ _You whisper to BadBoyHalo: Fortress on the left._

He watches as his friends’ characters stop running for a moment, their heads swiveling, before taking off in the direction of the fortress. 

Dream’s achievement hadn’t come through yet, so George assumed they were about a minute or so ahead of him. A minute in any other activity is meaningless, but when it came to these manhunts, a minute could stand between life and death. And for George-

_GeorgeNotFound has made the advancement [A Terrible Fortress]_

-he was definitely choosing life. His friends’ advancements echo his own.

“What?!” Dream’s half wheeze, half exclamation rings through right on cue. “How did you get here so fast?”

“We’re just that good,” Sapnap gloats, perhaps a touch preemptively.

_Dream has made the advancement [A Terrible Fortress]_

George could practically feel Sapnap’s smug smile fall from his face. He wastes no time. “Find the spawner,” he orders as the three split up, peeling down the dark hallways, George opting for the centremost. 

His axe sinks into the occasional wither skeleton or stray blaze, but the spawner is nowhere to be found. His spirits drop to the soles of his feet- that is- before an excited yell from Sapnap announces that he found one. George immediately bounds left.

A wither catches his side, a magma cube bounces lazily in his direction, but George doesn’t care. The only thing on his mind is getting to that spawner before-

He brings his character to a screeching halt. He sees the spawner, Sapnap punching at it with his axe, sure. But he also sees Dream, bow pulled back, aiming straight at Sapnap’s unknowing character. His warning would come too late, as a small bell tings with the arrow’s collision. 

“C’mere, Sapnap!” Dream’s voice turns wicked, the gain on his microphone crackling under pressure.  
  
Sapnap lets out a yelp- but neither of them seem to notice George before they are in a 1v1 pvp battle, with Dream already with the first hit. A few swings of axes pass, blazes beginning to spawn and support the anarchist third party of the battle, and Sapnap’s character runs straight past George’s.

“George! Do something!” He yells as he runs past, turning back around to lift his shield.

George blinks a few times, dumbfounded. “What- I can’t- Dream’s gonna kill you-”

“DISTRACT HIM, NIMROD!”

\---

_dreamwastaken: good morning_

_dreamwastaken: say it back_

_dreamwastaken: george_

_dreamwastaken: georgie_

_dreamwastaken: hello_

_georgenotfound: shut the fuck up i was sleeping_

_dreamwastaken: what- what time is it for you???_

_georgenotfound: a time._

_georgenotfound: i just woke up_

_dreamwastaken: me too. call?_

_georgenotfound: no_

_dreamwastaken: george._

George squints at the screen of his phone, the bright display quickly shooing away the last bits of tiredness he had. He sits up against his bed frame.  
  
_georgenotfound: make me-_ He swiftly deletes that, _fine._

He rubs his eyes and runs a hand through his disheveled bed head and presses the call button next to Dream’s username. The call rings at most two times, before the call connected sound rings through the darkness of his bedroom.

“Good morning, Gogy.” Dream sounded way too enthusiastic for the morning he presumably was in.

“Hi,” George tries out his vocal chords for the first time, only to be met with phlegm clogging his throat and a voice about an octave too low.

“Woah, hello morning voice,” Dream almost coos, his tone tiptoeing on his famous line between flirting and actual cyberbullying and harassment.  
  
“I told you, I just woke up.” George gives his throat a clearing, hoping it will help.

“Are you in front of your computer?” George hears Dream’s keyboard clattering.  
  
“I just woke up,” he repeats. 

“Go to your computer. Check Discord.” 

“I can literally do that from my phone-”

“George. Just do it. I need you to be sitting down properly for this.”

George peers at the notification icon next to his chat with Dream on his phone, every voice of reason in his body telling him to stay beneath the warm grasp of his covers and ignore his friend’s wishes.

The other voice in him is the one that caused him to rise, throw on a hoodie, and sit in front of his PC. 

“Okay… it’s a link. To a house,” George maneuvers his way around the website Dream had sent him.

“Where is the house?”

“Uh… considering that this is a ‘.com’ domain I am assuming the States,” the magnetic pull of his bed brings out the smartass in him.

“Just because you’re colorblind doesn’t mean you can’t fucking read, George. Look at the listing,” Dream whines, earning an eye roll from George. _Always with the colorblind jokes._

“Looks like… Florida? You moving?” George reads the address, different than where he knows Dream currently resides.

“No. George. It’s a renter. Sapnap and I are gonna rent it out! We just made the first payment, like, 3 seconds ago,” Dream announces giddily. 

George blinks.

And blinks again.

“But Nick lives in Texas.”

“But he’s _going_ to be living here! With me! And-” Dream stifles back excitement for just a moment, “there’s room for you.”

A smile pulls at George’s lips, but he offers an eye roll and sigh despite it. “Dream, you know I can’t. Not with Miss ‘Rona.”

“George- George. We’ve talked about this. You can quarantine for two whole weeks when you get here, we won’t go anywhere, it’ll just be me and you and I guess Sapnap staying inside. So incredibly safe.”

“Dream-”

“Literally the only thing stopping you is your own fear.”

“And the fucking virus-”

“If this were any other year you’d already be on a flight. Like we planned last year.”

“Well last year-”

“C’mon, just think about it? Please?”

George sucks the front of his teeth. This plea came on savagely fast at an excruciatingly early hour- think about it he definitely would. Later.

“I will.”

“George, are you telling me that to shut me up?”

“Maybe.”

“I want to see you, idiot. In person. Real.”

“Me too. Dream- I’m tired. Couldn’t you have done this literally any other time?”

“No. It had to be now. We just did the down payment and- and you’re my best friend, so you’re always the first to know.”

“Considerate.”

“And I also really wanted you to consider coming.”

“And I told you I would think about it.”

George hears his huff.

“Look- Dream, I’m going back to bed.”

“You just woke up!”

“All thanks to you. Goodnight, Dreamy.”

“Good- no. No. It’s morning. Good day, sir.”

“Whatever.” 

He hangs up, staring at the mid century-modern house on the screen in front of him.

_ Maybe someday. _

\---

“DISTRACT HIM, NIMROD!”

George looks at Sapnap, his words echoing through his headset as the yellow man in front of him winds for another blow. George swallows and jumps between them.

“Take me on a trip, I’d like to go someday,” he blurts out, ready to absorb the impact of an axe. 

His axe stops. “..what?”

“Take me to New York, I’d love to see L.A.” Dream grows silent over the call, his avatar standing awkwardly in front of George’s. “George… what are you saying?”

Dream’s naivety was endearing. Sapnap sneaking around the side of them was even more so.

“I’d really like to come kick it with you,” he lets his character crouch and grow closer.

“D-Did you change your mind? About the house?”

“You’ll be my American boy,” his cheeks grow slightly warm, due to a reason he’s unable to place.

“American boy?” George feels Dream’s flush through the screen, making his own worse.

There’s the sound of a block breaking, followed by a victory screech from Sapnap.

“YES! George! You’re a genius! I got it!” George lets his eyes flit from Dream to Sapnap, who is violently crouching and uncrouching atop where the spawner used to be.

"W-What? What? I hate you! I hate all of you! You're all idiots!" Dream turns and begins sprinting away.

A smile toys back onto George's face. "Simp."

They'd definitely be winning this manhunt.

\---

The record player clicks to a halt, the vinyl spinning mindlessly against the table. The gloved hand reaches out and lifts the arm, settling it delicately back on its stand, before picking up the record on its sides, sliding it back into its case. 

A second candle on the table lights, and the hands begin to rifle again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYO FIRST CHAPTER!!!
> 
> how we feelin? 
> 
> please feel free to leave any comments/questions/suggestions!! i'd love to hear your feedback.
> 
> please do not reupload my work without my permission! ao3 is currently the only place i publish.
> 
> cheers to chapter 2! <3
> 
> -record_writer


	3. House of the Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Running._
> 
> The crisp evening air pelts into his pink-stained cheeks, as shallows remnants of breath vaporize as smoke from his lips.
> 
> _Or was it escaping?_
> 
> He gives a glance over his shoulder, his feet keeping their sprinting pace.
> 
> _No- I remember._
> 
> Alex stops his feet from carrying him further, turning to face the old stone building behind him. Placing the remnants of his used cigarette between his teeth, a shallow chuckle shoots through his nostrils. 
> 
> “Light it up, boys.”
> 
> _I’m finishing this._
> 
> (Mafia AU)  
> (Karlnapity/DNF)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: mentions of sex, manipulation, explosives/firearms, violence, death

_ Running. _

The crisp evening air pelts into his pink-stained cheeks, as shallows remnants of breath vaporize as smoke from his lips.

_ Or was it escaping? _

He gives a glance over his shoulder, his feet keeping their sprinting pace.

_ No- I remember. _

Alex stops his feet from carrying him further, turning to face the old stone building behind him. Placing the remnants of his used cigarette between his teeth, a shallow chuckle shoots through his nostrils. 

“Light it up, boys.”

_ I’m finishing this. _

A click begins a split second of silence, before the sight of a thousand tiny explosions beginning from the framework ignite, spreading until the central foundations crack. With an enormous pop, the final bomb went off, sending shockwaves rattling through his bones. The glow of the building, now completely in flames, reflected like honey in his deep brown eyes, mixing with the glint of lunacy that resided behind the pupils. 

_ It was done. He was finally done. _

His mad grin began to fade as he caught a glimpse of a figure, limping out of the fire.

_ No. _

The figure ran a hand through their hair, and though Alex couldn’t see its eyes, could tell that they were staring straight at him.

_ There’s no way he could have survived. _

He opens his mouth to say something- anything-

when the alarm from his phone ripped him violently from this vision back to the reality behind the walls. Alex grabs his phone and paws at it to turn off the alarm, burning his retinas with the screen’s brightness. 

“If I have that dream one more time, I swear to God and baby Jesus that I can and will consume every last kneecap in this goddamn building,” he utters to no one in particular, rising from the bed and scratching away his bedhead.

The blackout curtains hanging over Alex’s window strain to hold back the rising sun, him relieving their duties by opening them to let the warmth of morning beat down on his face.

He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, letting the sun’s rays return life to his cold, previously bed-ridden body. Alex inhales, filling his lungs with fresh air, before opening his heavy eyelids to see the streets before him.

New Orleans was never a place he saw himself living. In fact, he had little to no idea that New Orleans existed beyond Bourbon Street. But when he turned 19 and received a slightly shady but extremely promising position amongst a ‘secretive family business, based in New Orleans’ (as the letter put it, verbatim), he found himself packing his bags and leaving the comfort of his home in exchange for an old white-bricked building. 

The view itself was never anything special. He secured a third-story room upon his contract, giving him arguably the best view of the entire building. The streets of New Orleans were boxy, grid-like, laced with empirical thought. This particular street, St. Louis Street, was made of cobblestone and lined with tightly-packed homes, some of which housed general stores or restaurants on the first floor. In the morning, the streets were dead. At night, they bloomed to life with locals and tourists alike, drunk out of their mind, looking for the next source of booze to drown out their minds. 

Alex’s line of work had made him exceptionally observant, and people-watching never failed to entertain him. But as he looked out upon what he expected to be empty roads, his eyes narrowed at the sight of an approaching vehicle, black and plateless, a ways down his street. At this moment, Alex’s instincts told him two things:

One, that car meant trouble. Two, it was headed here.

He quickly threw on his business attire, which was still strewn at the foot of his bed, and worked on fastening his tie as he left his room on route to his higher up’s office.

Approaching the large oak door, he rapped on it three times. A muffled “enter” followed after. Alex peeked his head in.

Seated at the desk inside, feet up on its edge, was his boss. He was a formidable presence by appearance: a smile seemingly always curled onto his lips, perfectly unkempt facial hair framing his jawline, his eyes slightly mismatched shades of brown; but perhaps his most defining feature was the two ram’s horns peeking out from beneath his mop of brown hair. No one truly knew if Schlatt’s horns were real or an indulgence from Amazon, and anyone who tested their legitimacy had an unexpected disappearance the following day.

Alex cleared his throat as he entered, but Schlatt’s eyes did not raise to meet his own. “Sir. There is a black car outside the House, and something tells me it’s not the fucking mailman.” 

Schlatt cocks an eyebrow, and speaks with a thick New York accent. “A visitor, eh? Don’t blame ‘em- I am quite irresistible.” 

_ Why was he always so unprofessional, especially with what’s at stake? _ Alex opted to speak a bit more reasonably. “Would you like me to bring them in?”   
“Big Q, you got it. Let me know if they try to kill ya,” he responded with a chuckle.

He knew Schlatt was being humorous, but that always is a looming threat when you work for the mafia.

Nevertheless, Alex excused himself and made his way downstairs. On the second floor, however, he was interrupted by a familiar set of amber eyes. 

“Mornin’.”

Alex felt his cheeks tighten to stifle a smile as Nick, codename Sapnap, greeted him with a deep voice traced with the lingerance of sleep. 

He nods back. “Morning, Sap.”

As he passes Sapnap’s room, he catches glimpses of a purple hoodie sprawled across the bed.  _ Karl. _

Alex figures he’d toy with him a bit.

“Have a good night?” He asks, a coy smile finally toying onto his lips. 

Sapnap offers a deep laugh, glancing quickly over his shoulder. “Oh you know it, Q.” He leans down to whisper in Alex’s ear, “Didn’t know you taught him Spanish.”

He feels his face immediately turn a bright shade of red, and he gives Sapnap a punch on the arm. “Sap, what the fuck!”

“Hey, Karl did it, not me,” he defends, “I made sure I was understood the whole time.”

“You’re disgusting,” Alex pinches his eyebrows together.

“You’re into it,” Sapnap shrugs, leaning back against his door frame. 

Alex’s eyes widen a bit. “Hey, keep that down. Big guy can’t know about this.”

“About your super sexy awesome fiancés?”

“Sapnap.”

“About last weekend?”

His face got even more red. Sapnap laughed again.

“Relax, Q. You know if anything were to seem fishy, we can play it off as Karl and my own’s hot monogamous relationship. Schlatty knows about us, and I can pull enough details out so you’ll not even be in suspicion.”

Alex felt a twinge of jealousy pull the corners of his lips down. He didn’t know why Schlatt was so protective over him, like he was but a pet to the big guy. He couldn’t be in a relationship, much less a polygamous one, without Schlatt’s direct approval, and considering the demotion he offered Nick and Karl when he found out about the two’s fling, Alex had decided it was best to keep it to himself. And Sapnap. And Karl. And most of the rest of the people on the second floor. 

_ Realistically, it was only a matter of time, _ he thought, spinning the golden band on his finger.

“Hey, don’t get mopey. How about we all go get dinner tonight, hm?” Sapnap rested the hand that wasn’t against the doorframe on Alex’s waist, and butterflies immediately exploded from his touch.

“I’d like that.” He heard a door start to open and withdrew from Sapnap’s touch. “So, uh, yes, Sapnap, I just have a job to run for Schlatt. You can ask me your questions later,” he covered, making sure his voice was loud enough for whoever may be listening. 

Sapnap offered his famous ‘you are the worst actor on the face of this earth’ stare, before conceding. “Thanks, Quackity. I’ll talk to you soon, then.”

Alex nodded and departed, a slight wave of relief hitting him when he saw the door that opened belonged to a certain British asshole.

George mouthed “gay” as he walked past, to which Alex responded by raising a poised middle finger. He heard Sapnap laugh once again before closing his door.

He was lucky to have made some good friends amongst his colleagues here. It made the work of embezzlement and hired murder a bit easier.

Finally descending to the relatively empty first floor, a perfectly timed knock sounded from the front door. Alex walked to the door and looked through its peephole.

Standing before the door was a tall man in a suit, wearing sunglasses and a half black, half white mask to conceal their features.

Alex pressed the pager button to speak to the man outside. “State your name and intentions.”

“Just here to deliver a pizza, sir,” the man said with a bored but confident tone.

Mafia slang- something Alex picked up rather fast. He opens the door. 

“Very well, come in,” he gestures to the room on their left.

A pizza delivery, as used with common mafia business, meant the wanting to meet with the second in command- usually for some sort of employment arrangement or minor issue that did not need to be brought to the head of operations. Luckily for this masked stranger, Alex happened to be exactly what he was looking for.

The man brushed past Alex and went to the room which was gestured to. Following him into the small office room, Alex clicks the door behind himself and takes a seat across from the mysterious person in his presence.

“HRS, you can call me Quackity. Who do you speak for?”  _ Routine. _

“I speak on behalf of Dark Shepards- Magnus Proper, Orlando based. Ranboo.” He extends a hand of polite greeting. Alex takes it.  _ Boring. _

“Pleasure. What can HRS do for you?”  _ Probably another business deal. _

“I want you to join us.”

Alex scoffed. “If you knew anything about the HRS, you know we don’t accept allegiances.” He rises to open the door to show ‘Ranboo’ out, when the man grabs his wrist.

“Not the HRS. You, Alex.”

His face immediately drained of color. Knowing real names in the mafia business was dangerous. He recoils back into a corner.

Though his face is covered, Alex could tell Ranboo smiled. “The HRS is going down. This week. The DSMP has been planning this for months, working with someone on the inside here.”

“There’s spies in-”

“Don’t play dumb, Alex. You know about him.”

Alex’s breath hitches.  _ Surely not… _

\---

“You and Nick… are…”

“And Karl,” Alex corrected.

“And- Karl? Are engaged?” George sat, processing the information.

Alex nods, spinning the ring on his finger mindlessly.

“Like, properly?” His British accent pokes through with the vowels. It was endearing.

“Yeah. And- and as soon as we can get out of here, we’re going to get married. For real,” his cheeks grew tight with a smile of pride.

George smiles back too, but it falters after a sweet moment. “You know Schlatt’s not going to like that.”

“I know. He has a thing against dating within the House, I have no idea why. That’s why we’re going to get out of the contracts. Karl, Nick, and I. All of us.”

The British man shakes his head in disbelief. “Once you’re in the House, Alex, there’s no way out.”

“I know, but there’s gotta be some other way. How did you get out of the contract at your old place?” Alex asks. George had been fairly secretive about his old mafia position, but he needed to pry.

George chewed the inside of his cheek a bit. Alex figures this is his way of keeping his mouth shut about it, when-

“Honest, Alex? I’m not really out of contract. That’s the truth. The boss there and I are, still… in contact, if you will. We’re on pretty good terms, I’d say.”

Alex could tell he was choosing his words extremely carefully. “You still talk to your old boss?”

“In a way. But- that’s besides the point. Once you get a contract, you’re in it until death. Whether the death is you or the boss, that’s a grey area. But it’s no short-term thing you’ve gotten into.”

Alex sat back on George's bed, in thought. “George,” he eventually manages to say, “why did you join the House? Really? If you and the boss are on good terms now, you must’ve been great when you actually worked for them.”

He could’ve sworn he say George blush for a moment, but brushed that aside.

“The House has been the ruin of many good people, Alex. I guess I thought me being here would help, and I wasn’t completely wrong with that assumption. Schlatt- he still seeks havoc. But since I’ve been here, at least, there’s been no death. I consider that a win.”

“Your old gig didn’t kill?”

“No. More of a manipulation ring. Take valuable items, hold them over people’s heads to get more power. Much less lethal. Still pays well.”

Alex smiles. “Ah, yes. Systemic manipulation. Much better than murder.” Admittedly, no branch of mafia work was good, and it was fun to poke fun at on occasions. 

“Definitely,” George responds, before his phone rings. He looks at it, then up to Alex. “You mind?”

Alex shakes his head, and gets up to leave. “Not at all. See you tonight, Gogy.”

“Gogy- no, Big Q, that’s not my-” his complaint was cut short by Alex closing his door, a dumb smile plastered on his face.

\---

“George?”

Ranboo nods.

“But he just said he was in contact with his old boss, not that he-”

“Worked for him still? Please. George and the boss man are sort of inseperable, in their own way.”

Alex looked at Ranboo in confusion and a touch of anger.  _ How could George be spying on him? On his work? _

“What are the options here, Ranboo?”

“On one hand, you can take up a job with the DSMP. One small favor in return for your contractual freedom- ability to marry your, uh, fiancés? Plural, I think I was told.” Alex nods in cautious confirmation.

“On the other, you sit in willing ignorance and powerlessness knowing your days are numbered with digits you do not know.” Alex nods a bit slower.

“That’s… a tall ask. On either side. I should really just summon the guard and boss man, have you exterminated on the spot.”

“But you wouldn’t do that, not when your boy toys’ room is facing the street. With the windows open.”

Once again, the color drains from Alex’s face, making him slightly dizzy. “No- you can’t-”

“And we won’t unless you do anything stupid. Trust me when I say my man in the car’s a good shot. Just because we don’t ‘do’ murder, doesn’t mean we aren’t more than capable.”

Alex curses under his breath, thinking for a beat. “Well- what’s the favor?”

“Are you taking that path?”

“No, I just want to know what it is before I accept.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Come  _ on,  _ man. Those are my fiancés up there. Cut me a line.”

Ranboo seems to think over it, before pulling a small device out of the inside of his blazer. “4 of these around the building’s foundations. That’s all. George will get the rest, but he doesn’t have access to the places you do.”

_ His dream. _

Alex stares at the small device- a black box with a small antenna. A bomb.

“You’re going to blow up the House?”

“Announce it why don’t you.” Ranboo puts the device away.

“Sorry,” Alex responds, shaking his head of his forgetfulness of the matter. “What about my fiancés?”

“If you agree, we can assure their safety. You, your lovers, and George will get out safely. Everyone else in the building? Not so much.”

“Is this whole ordeal just to get rid of the House? Of Schlatt? What did he ever do to your people? What are you seeking to get out of- doing what you are planning on doing?” Alex sat back down in his chair. He hoped Ranboo didn’t take that as a sign of too much interest.

There was a long moment of thoughtful silence before the other man spoke. “An old friend of mine- of the DSMP used to work here, absolutely wise beyond his years. Schlatt was raising him to work underneath him, some sort of sick father/son duo he craved but couldn’t achieve. This boy, he was my friend- a friend of the DSMP.” Alex couldn’t help but to raise his eyebrows at the double clarification Ranboo had to use.

“Schlatt broke him beyond repair. His upbeat personality was forced to be dark, his eyes lost their sparkle,” Ranboo’s face turned to seemingly look out between the blinds on the windows.   
Alex treaded lightly. “You speak of him in the past tense.”

“Tubbo’s gone. Schlatt pushed him too far- into a deal that ended in the sick and swift end of his life.” Ranboo shook his head, and his voice quieted. “He was just a kid, Alex.”

Silence sat thick and deep in the room. Alex knew of Tubbo. Schlatt had mentioned him a few times as his predecessor, but never the fact that he was a prodigal child instead of a man. 

“I’m so sorry-”

“There is no room for apologies or calls for forgiveness. Not in our business. You know this,” Ranboo interjects, earning another nod from Alex.

His mind started to race, showing images in his mind like a stop-motion movie, narrating soundlessly the many nights of manipulation, of torture, unwarranted violence. He wasn’t exactly sure if the flashing pictures were what was making the room he was in now feel like it was spinning, or if he were rather about to pass out. Either way, one thought tethered him to the pleather chair he sat on:

If Alex was so unhappy with what he was doing under Schlatt, why keep him here any longer?

Minutes pass, the atmosphere in the room turning from redemptive solitude to an awkward silence. He breaks the silence.

“I’ll do it.”

\---

“You’re doin’ what now?”

Sapnap stared at Alex, brows furrowed, over the C-tier steak he had ordered himself for dinner, a forkful of which finding its way to his mouth. 

“Well, I don’t think I can do it in time, not without your help- see, each of the capsules is hooked to its own separate detonator, all which need to be pressed at the same time in order for the… uh… boom to happen correctly. Kinda sucks that they’re using such prehistoric equipment for this job, but-”

Alex’s hasty monologue was interrupted by a soft hand being placed over his mouth. He mumbled a bit in protest, anger melting into annoyed adoration as his eyes looked over to meet Karl’s.

“Alex. I love you, but stop talking. Whatever you need Sap and I to do, you’ve got it. We’re here for you until the end.”

“Speak for yourself,  _ sweetie. _ Any cash? Money on the line?” Sapnap asked, his mouth still on its final gnaws of the previous bite of steak. 

Alex peeled Karl’s hand away, planting a quick kiss on top of it before placing it back at his side. “Beyond anything, it’s a chance to be free of whatever the hell Schlatt’s got against love. Potentially even a new job, yes, with better pay.”

“So this Ranboo character- he just wants Schlatt down?” Karl asks, spooning some more of his soup into his mouth.

Alex adjusts in his seat. “You all remember Tubbo? He was Schlatt’s second before me?” The two other men nod in recollection. “Apparently they were close friends, him and Ranboo. Some shady things happened I guess, Tubbo died, and a life-long vendetta was born.”

Sapnap sets his fork down. “Schlatt used to talk about him a lot. He was a good man, from what I’ve heard. But we were told that what happened to him was an accident in a deal gone sour- not anything out of cold blood.”

“You were also told that being in love with another man within the House made you a lesser agent. Is that true?” Alex retorts.

Sapnap narrows his eyes a bit. “I’ll do it, Alex, of course. Anything with fire is my strong suit. I hope you’re right about it.”

Karl gives him a slight elbow. “Alex has never been wrong. It’s one of the many reasons I love him, just like your stubbornness is one of the many reasons I love  _ you. _ ” He turns to Alex, “Of course I’m in. When are we doing this?”

“Tonight.”

\---

The evening passed regularly, with Alex taking care of all of Schlatt's nightly rituals with a stiff lip and usual indifference.

The plastic shells in his pocket were always a gentle reminder of the activities that were to follow.

Planting the bombs was surprisingly easy, Alex found, and he kept the detonators (a small thumb drive with a protective cap over the button) with him to disperse. Giving one to Sapnap and Karl was easy, but Alex's hand hesitated when it went to knock at George's door. Nevertheless, he did his usual knock, and George answered with his usual smile.

"Hey, Alex. Late, isn't it?"

Alex saved himself the small talk, opting to simply extend his hand holding the detonator. George's eyes went wide as saucers as his gaze went from the small piece of plastic back up to Alex's eyes. 

"You spoke to-"

"There's four. Can only do one at a time myself, and they need to happen at the same time."

"But how did he-"

"We're exiting in 10. I was told someone with a car would be down the street."

"Ranboo-"

"Understood?"

George took the hint that now was not the time to talk and nodded. Alex turned and walked back down the hallway, where Nick's door was still open. He leaned on the doorframe, gazing in as his fiancés worked on stuffing a backpack together. It was Karl who noticed his return first.

"Hello again, honey," his smile made his eyes crinkle.

Sapnap looked up and offered a small smirk, before returning to his task.

"Ten more minutes until forever," Alex sighed. "Ten more minutes."

Karl gave a small nod, and Sapnap threw a hoodie at him to continue packing as he stood to walk to Alex.

He placed his thumb under Alex's chin, tilting it up to look him in the eyes.

"George got his okay?" He asked, moving his thumb from below his chin to lightly rubbing his cheek.

Alex nodded into his warm hand. "We're all set."

"Nervous?"

"Like hell."

"You've thought of everything, love. You'll be okay."

"I hope so," Alex sighed again.

Sapnap lifts Alex's chin yet again. "I know so."

He slowly closes the space between them, meeting Alex's nerve-bitten lips with his own, soft and plush. It was a feeling Alex never tired of, and he let some of his tension fall into the embrace of his fiancé. 

"What- the  _ hell- _ are you doing?"

Alex's eyes shot open and he immediately pulled his face away from Sapnap's. The other man's eyes flitted over his shoulder and widened as well, a curse being muttered softly under his breath. Alex slowly turned.

Schlatt stood at the end of the hallway, head cocked and eyes raging.

Alex felt fear creep up his spine. His knees wobbled, only to be supported by Sapnap's arm.

"I- we-"

"You're part of this? Of those two?"

"Schlatt-"

"Behind my  _ back?" _

"It's not what it looks like."

"Ohoho- Big Q, you don't keep secrets from me. You don't know what you've done now."

Sapnap placed another firm hand on Alex’s shoulder. “No, Schlatt,” he said to the man, “you can’t keep trying to take everyone’s happiness on account of your own.”

Schlatt’s eyes shifted from Alex to Sapnap. “The loverboy dares speak? To  _ me? _ ”

“You’ve toyed with me and Karl. But Alex? Quackity? He’s your right hand man, dude. Cut him some slack.”

“Slack? My Alex should know better than to do things so foolish with people as low as you,” Schlatt points towards Sapnap with one hand and reaches behind him with the other.

Sapnap’s grip tightens. “He’s not yours.”

“He’s more mine than yours. I got his entire life, signed away on a neat little paper. Yours too, son.”

“Some words on a page do not define who I stand with,” Sapnap carefully stated.

“Except they do, kid. They do- and I own them. I own  _ all _ of them. I own you. I’ve given you these riches and you can bet that I will take it all away faster than your hands can reach for your little boy toys,” Schlatt laughs, beginning to dig in his beltline behind him.

“Sapnap, take Karl and run,” Alex whispered in Sapnap’s ear, gently pushing him backwards with an unexpected surge of courage. He felt his fiancé’s hand tighten in a moment of defiance, but conceded a moment later.

Alex turned back to Schlatt. “Schlatt. You- your morals- you’re led astray, with your- I-”

“C’mon, Big Q. Use your words, idiot. You know what I get like when I’m mad, and I am getting very mad,” Schlatt mocked, his hand finally rounding his body, his infamous glock resting comfortably in his palm. He gave it a gentle toss to get it situated the right way.

Karl and Sapnap snuck out behind him, and Alex’s breath hitched. He put his two hands up defensively. 

“Schlatt. You don’t have to do this.”

“Well, if you and your lovers there want to be together, I’ll make sure your bodies are snuggled up real closely out back.”

“You can do what you want with me, Schlatt, just don’t-”

“Don’t hurt them, eh? Don’t touch ‘your’ boys? I just got done telling you, they’re  _ mine _ . You’re mine! You all live for  _ me. _ ”

“I would rather die than ‘be’ yours. You can’t own a person.”

Schlatt cocked his gun. “You’d rather die eh? I can do that. Better start running,” he raised the barrel towards Alex, “I don’t know how much patience your ‘servitude’ has bought you.”

Alex wasn’t sure if Schlatt was being serious, but wasn’t going to stick around to find out. His brow furrowed in a mixture of frustration and anger, and he began to bound down the stairs.

_ Running. _

He bursts through the front doors, the crisp evening air pelts into his pink-stained cheeks, as shallows remnants of breath vaporize as smoke from his lips. His lips curl with a faint feeling of recollection. 

_ Or was it escaping? _

He gives a glance over his shoulder, his feet keeping their sprinting pace. Schlatt’s in there, beginning the countdown of his patience.

_ No- I remember. _

Alex stops his feet from carrying him further, turning to face the old stone building behind him. A warm hand wraps around his waist, a shallow chuckle shooting through his nostrils. 

“Light it up, boys.”

_ I’m finishing this. _

He turns his head to look at the warm eyes of Sapnap behind him, with the bright purple hoodie sleeve of Karl holding him close. They take out their buttons and all press them at the same time.

A click begins a split second of silence, before the sight of a thousand tiny explosions beginning from the framework ignite, spreading until the central foundations crack. With an enormous pop, the final bomb went off, sending shockwaves rattling through his bones. The glow of the building, now completely in flames, reflected like honey in his deep brown eyes, mixing with the glint of hatred that resided behind the pupils. 

_ It was done. They were finally done. _

His sad smile began to fade as he caught a glimpse of a figure, limping out of the fire.

_ No. _

The figure ran a hand through their hair, and though Alex couldn’t see its eyes, could tell that they were staring straight at him. Alex sunk further into Karl’s grasp

_ There’s no way he could have survived. _

“Thanks for the warning, assholes,” a choked British accent called out.

Alex’s eyes widen in realization and he begins to bound forward. “Oh my god- George- I’m so sorry- are you-”

George waved his hand as a small flame on his shirt fizzled out. “I’m fine, Alex. You and the boys okay?”

Sapnap and Karl ran up to either side of Alex, joining him with their well-done Brit friend. “We’re fine- George, can I help?” Sapnap looked at the soft burns dotting George’s pale skin.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I just hope that our ride is-”

The sound of squealing tires cuts him off, as an unmarked black van turns the corner at a high speed, zooming down the road until it screeches to a halt beside the four men. The hand-cranked black-out window rolls down painfully slowly.

Seated in the passenger seat is a muscular man with thin-framed glasses, a scar running down his left eye. His hair is long and pulled back, its rose hue unnatural but fitting.

George walks around to the other side of the car to the driver’s seat window, behind which sits a man in a green suit with a puff of dirty blonde hair. Though Alex can’t hear what is being said, the kiss George leans in for is answer enough as to who this car belongs to.

The pink-haired man speaks to the other three, voice deep and monotone. “No automatic doors. Old car. Get in.” He slowly begins to crank the window up, eyes fixed forward, signalling the end of his conversation.

Alex felt Karl giggle a bit at the sight of such a serious man manually cranking up a window in a high-tension situation, and he let himself laugh a bit too.

Sapnap opened the door for two, and the three of them all chose to cuddle together in the security of the backseat. George sat right behind the driver, humming along to the song on the radio.

As the driver floored it, the car lurching to life faster than it was built to, Alex looked out the window at the burning building, the sound of sirens echoing lightly over the radio.

A hand covered his own, followed by another.

Surrounded by his fiancés and a surplus of new and old friends, Alex’s heart slowed.

The streets of New Orleans were slowly left behind, as the van sped down the interstate, westbound. Soon Louisiana was no more than a road sign, the House no more than a painfully unforgettable memory. But for Alex? He knew he could learn to move on.

Besides, he now had a wedding to plan.

\---

The record ended sooner than expected, the needle jumping on a series of scratches along the vinyl. A hand lifts the arm, curious, and runs a finger along the surface of the record before picking it up and returning it to its sleeve.

A third candle lights, and the turntable stops spinning. The gloved hands begin, yet again, to search for the next song.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long for this chapter! life happened.
> 
> but holy hell there's like... 5 of you?? getting notified when it updates??? and 20 kudos???? and 300 hits??????
> 
> thank you all so much!!!
> 
> anyway, i hope you liked mafia!dsmp, and i hope to have the next chapter done sooner.
> 
> as always, please feel free to leave any comments/questions/suggestions!! i'd love to hear your feedback.
> 
> please do not reupload my work without my permission! ao3 is currently the only place i publish.
> 
> -record_writer <3


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